In the beginning, there were just three Arks...

Inspired by the story of Noah, and tales of the great Chinese Junks, as well as by their own peoples' seafaring history, three massive ships were constructed, large enough to house a small nation within its hold – in fact, the very purpose of their construction. A dying nation transformed its entire economy, indeed its entire country, into one great shipyard, the sole function being the building of a fleet of ships, the likes of which the world had not yet seen. With time running down, and their country dissolving around them, the people pushed forward with their great work, and upon completion, the whole nation stepped as-one aboard the floating mammoths – ever mindful that it was their own motherland they had fed into the furnace to power the engine of this endeavor.

The three Arks towered above the sea as titans rising up from abyssal harbors, their purpose unfathomable to the uninitiated below. Surely, this was a marvel of human enterprise that few could eclipse? They had built the Pyramids of Egypt upon Ocean's back. They were embarking on Magellan's voyage around the globe, and taking Spanish cities with them. They were a floating Wonder of the World.

And they were refugees, exiled from their dying home and cast off into the vastness of the sea in hope of finding a new home. They knew it not, at the time, but upon stepping aboard the decks of their newly-furnished Arks, they were in fact stepping upon the soil of their new home – a home upon the seas, and themselves citizens of no particular land, but citizens of the world; at least, the portion of the world that was covered in water…a portion ever-increasing.

The Refugee Arks set sail on their never-ending voyage – a nation settled in their hold, a colonnade of towers rising from their decks, a destiny manifest upon their prow.

The far-northern island-nation of Thule lay within the Arctic Circle, 3/4 of its surface covered by a permanent ice sheet. Seafaring Inuit peoples had settled the windswept lands long in the past, bringing their culture and traditions from their previous country and adapting them to this new one.

The Coming of the Northmen

The Northmen hailed from the Scandinavian Kingdom of North Cross, and they settled in camps along the shoreline, their long boats having been hauled to shore. They fished in the seas; they foraged in the brush; they farmed the fields; they traded with the nearby Inuit settlements; and every now and then, they hauled their long boats back into the sea, laden with ivory and fish and timber, and set out once again on expeditions past the horizon.

The Inuit peoples watched the comings and goings of these strangers closely. Sometimes they traded with one another; sometimes they skirmished. These newcomers were quick-to-anger and quick-to-fight, noted the Inuit; a people prone to war, and surely to be kept an eye on, if not avoided altogether.

The Decline of the Northmen

Over the centuries, the two communities continued to coexist in uneasy peace. The fortunes of the Northmen waxed and waned, but there seemed to exist a continual trend toward the failure of the colony.

Weather worsened, and as the Medieval Warm Period gave way to the Little Ice Age, Thule became an increasingly hostile environment – especially for the Northmen, who seemed to stubbornly cling to their way of life and refused to adopt any of the Inuit techniques or inventions which allowed them to thrive. Ships arriving from the Kingdom of North Cross decreased from its original torrent to a mere trickle, and the fates of the Northmen in Thule looked grim, indeed.

By the Early-Modern Era, independent Northern colonies ceased to exist, their crops having failed and herds having died off. The last ship from North Cross had been generations ago. Many pack up what little they had and set sail – presumably back home, to North Cross, or to nearby colonies. Those that remained were gradually integrated into the Inuit settlements and societies, and the two peoples merged into one.

The Return of the Northmen

In the 18th century, Northmen began returning to Thule. The quest for the discovery of the Northwest Passage brought many ships back into contact with the isolated polar country. Missionaries from North Cross established Mission Houses along the warmer, southern coast. A joint-stock trading company was established back in North Cross, and trade between the two nations was reestablished.

North Cross would eventually reaffirm its historical possession of the island-nation, and while this brought further waves of merchants and missionaries – and even settlers – the new legal fact of North Cross possession had little direct impact on the locals of Thule. New cities would be built, and new political structures introduced.

By the early 20th century, Thule was a small, sparsely-populated, isolated, yet relatively-modern nation, whose status as a protectorate of North Cross was more or less accepted by the locals and viewed with an indifference. By the end of the century, a referendum would grant them full independence. Relations between the newly-independent nation of Thule, and its former colonial power, North Cross, remained cordial, and the bond would continue until the dissolution of Thule in the 21st century.

After global climate change wrought its mischief among the ocean currents and sea-temperatures in the 21st century, the peoples of Thule were quick to notice changes to their homeland. The ice sheet which covered their country was melting. The sea-levels were rising. Their coast-land was disappearing.

Geologic Depression

Town council meetings began to be held weekly, during this early period. Such was the civic turnout for these meetings, and so heightened the emotions of the participants, that crowds were overflowing into the streets, where the rhetoric was often significantly less civil. The rifts in opinion quickly evolved into actual physical dividing lines in the street, with lines being drawn and sides squaring off and barricades being thrown up to protect this strategic point or another. A situation not unlike that of the early days of a revolution gradually began to develop.

Within the halls of the meetings themselves, the atmosphere was not much more stable or productive. Public works projects of various kind were floated to solve the problem, but they were a poor country with limited resources. Public opinion was just too divided to take any massive, decisive step in one direction or another. Some spoke of emigrating elsewhere, en masse, but who would take them?

North Cross sent token support, but were themselves too distracted by their own national crisis to focus their attention outwards. Waves of migrants, fleeing war and famine in their homelands, were flowing to their borders, seeking refuge. The peoples of Thule recognized this migrant crisis as being inextricably linked with their own - the global climate is all encompassing, and when change comes to it, change comes to all humanity. But North Cross could not, or would not, recognize this, and they sank into parochialism. Looking down their own noses, their sight was, indeed, short. Likewise, the rest of the international community - it seemed every major power was embroiled in a domestic crisis, each stemming from a universal place, though reactionary local attitudes precluded any sort of organized international effort from being coordinated.

The Rising Tide

The peoples of Thule could only sigh, looking out upon events unfolding. The timescale on which they were forced to confront their fate was increasing with every passing day, but the timescales on which nations were moving was geologic. Depression seemed to set in, and the population began a slow retreat north into the interior of the country, where the melting was less prevalent due to the colder temperatures. Cities were dismantled, beam by beam, and sent north by boat. The nation seemed to be trapped in a kind of limbo, where they waited for something to be done about the situation. Surely, someone would come to their aid?

By the time the people woke from their stupor and realized that action had to be taken – by them and no one else – it was too late. The threshold was already passed; the Rubicon crossed long before. The melting was now inexorable, and there was no way to save their country.

But, as the saying goes, "A rising tide lifts all boats..."

Truly, something momentous occurred on Thule during its final days. The majority of the country is now submerged underwater, with only the northern-most portion remaining above sea level, as though it were managing to barely hold its head above the waves. Expeditions from various nations and international bodies have been sent to the region, and divers report many miraculous findings; however, few of them are able to rationally describe what they saw. “Ruins.” “Engineering marvels.” “Terrible engines.” “Gaping furnaces.” “Factories designed by mad men.” “Workshops of the Gods.”

Whispers and rumors surrounding this event – the cataclysmic Flood and the mysteries discovered in the Deep – surge like the tide around an outcrop of rocks. One whisper that appears louder than the rest involves the legendary Kingdom of Steam and Clockwork – itself rumored to be a technological wonderland and scientific utopia, though insular and reclusive, its very existence often in-doubt – and the presence of one of its denizens upon the Isle of Thule during its last days. This mysterious stranger from foreign shores would have possessed, like all his fellow citizens, a high degree of knowledge in the arts of science and mathematics and engineering. The Kingdom of Steam and Clockwork, should it in fact exist, is supposed to contain such technical marvels as to baffle the mind; its level of scientific knowledge would be so advanced as to appear to the outside world to be nothing short of magic. A nation of mechanical wizards, hidden away somewhere in the East. If one of these techno-magi were, in fact, present on Thule during its dying days, this would go far to explain the sunken engineering monstrosities witnessed by diving teams, as well as shed some light upon the mystery of the creation of the Refugee Arks, themselves.

The early travelogues of the denizens of the arks are filled with hope. One can practically see the expressions on their faces as they leave behind a home of pain and loss, and set sail into the headwinds of anticipation and adventure. In their writings, one sees that their expectations were for a relatively short voyage, before settling in a new land. They may not have known where or when, but it was surely just a matter of time before they left behind this temporary shelter on the seas. However, their stay aboard these ships was to be anything but temporary.

In Search of Refuge

The small armada of refugees sailed first to North Cross, their erstwhile colonial power, to whom they were connected by both history and blood. But when they dropped anchor off the Northern Coast, they were met by belligerent vessels sent from shore. In no uncertain terms, they were being denied entry into the country. And pleas fell on deaf ears.

The ongoing migration crisis, there, seemed to be creating a volatile atmosphere, and one that was definitely not conducive to generating good feelings towards foreigners arriving on their shores. Famine and war, which had broken out in distant Aethiopia and the Levant, had plunged the region into chaos and sent its people reeling across the seas in search of refuge. When they began to wash up on the shores of North Cross, they were initially welcomed and cared for. But, as more and more migrants continued to arrive, and as word spread that they were an amenable sanctuary, tensions began to heat among the native Northerners and the increasing numbers of foreign migrants being absorbed into their country. Xenophobia began to spread like a virus through an internment camp.

By the time the refugees from Thule came upon the scene, the situation was becoming desperate. The beaches were full of haphazard migrant camps, tent communities that were mostly open to the elements and without power or proper sanitation. A small envoy from the arks had been sent ashore, this landing party intended to conduct diplomatic talks with the Northern officials present and plea their case. However, the situation became apparent immediately. The envoy changed course, and began conducting talks with leaders of the migrant camps, instead. Within a day, the beach camps were being evacuated and its inhabitants shuttled back to the main armada anchored out in deeper waters.

The atmosphere within the arks was celebratory, with song and dance and laughter filling the holds. Language and cultural differences were apparent, but they all shared the native tongue of the refugee. And as they gathered together 'round the shores of this seaborn Babylon, yea they wept. How, you might ask, could they sing their songs while in a foreign land? But sing they did. "Ooo la la la..."

The Floating City

The arks sailed around Europe for many months, going from port to port, each time sending inquiries about resettlement and each time being turned away coldly.

During their excursion through the Mediterranean Sea, they found themselves cruising up the Adriatic and happening upon a coastal city of some note and wonder. Locals referred to it as "Serenissima" - the City of Bridges, the City of Canals, and the Floating City. It was a city oriented in total towards the waves. Built upon a small, low-lying quay just offshore the mainland, the marshy islands on which Serenissima was constructed were designed without streets, but rather canals as the main thoroughfares through the city. These waterways were plied by gondolas, light ferries used to navigate the twisting network of canals. This seaward focus would lead to the city dominating the maritime trade routes and shipping concerns of the region, bringing in wealth and status that would result in the establishment of a maritime republic focused on representational governance and overseas trade.

Yet, in the 21st century, things looked grim for the city of canals. The rising seas were engulfing the city at a rate almost as fast as that which had swallowed Thule, and the lower levels of every building were already subsumed beneath the waves. Everywhere, people were building stilts for new homes, fighting a losing war with the molds that were thriving, and forever bailing out water. Bilge pumps had become more valuable than gold. And something of a miasma hung in the air, with a scent that was fetid and fungal and forlorn.

When the Arks crested the horizon off Serenissima, they drew most of the citizenry in wonder. What were these mammoth ships? And what new ill-fate did they herald? But when the small boats were launched and the envoys of the landing party described their plight, the words of these refugees struck a chord with these folks as resounding as a tolling bell.

During the flurry of town hall meetings, impassioned speeches echoed through the ancient chambers of their basilica. Were they not all descended from refugees, themselves? They built their city on the sea, originally, as a refuge from strife and warfare, back on the mainland. Barbarians had begun pressing in on the borders of the empire, and the open countryside had become unsafe. And what of their proud, maritime culture? Were they not all descended from Ocean's masters? Let us regain our heritage and join this refugee armada. Let us, again, take to the sea! The city is sinking, so let us all take up this life raft which Heaven has sent our way!

While this was an unexpected result for the denizens of the Arks, they found the enthusiasm of the people of this sinking city to be contagious. Perhaps these Serenissimans saw something that they all were too close to recognize? Perhaps their life aboard these ships was the refuge they sought?

The resulting craft that departed the Serenissima Lagoon was a sight to behold. Sleek and ornate, the exterior was gilded with filigree, and it glittered with stained glass windows and arching domes. This new Ark reflected the maritime history of their republic, designed with one eye turned into past, while the other looked ahead into a new era of plying the seas conducting new trade. What had once been their Floating City, they now boarded the floating market of the Gilded Ark.

At this point in the story, the denizens of the arks were coming to terms with status as permanent refugees. Castaways no longer in search of land. Adrift but not lost at sea.

The arks had become their homes. Certainly there was enough room! And with the construction of the new ark, this allowed for everyone to recognize the potential for future expansion, should it again come to that.